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Character Name— Faen'Idris, The BastardPlayer Name— Drake PhyreConcept— Think of Grendel's mother and Beowulf's son except he doesn't want the throne and just wants to be a normal man unfortunately he is a half fae. Instead of listening to his mothers hopes he decided to swear an oath to secretly guard his Ulfkin brethren from mystical dangers like his mother.Lifepaths— Gifted Child, Lead to Noble Court, Huntsman, Lead to Professional Soldier, ScoutAge— 20

Beliefs

#1 We are who we choose to be.
#2 Blood like a true-name holds a power over us so you must guard your blood.
#3 These Ulfkin are really depressing people.

Instincts

#1 When not in a hurry moves Stealthy in the wilderness.
#2 When Tracking prey through the wilderness he forages for edible plants along the way.
#3 Always cooks for an extra person, saves unneeded food for later.Gear— Weapons (Dirk, Hatchet, Longbow, Footman's Axe, Sword), Clothes, Boots, Travelling GearProperty—Affiliations—Reputations— Hunter Faen (The Hunter who goes by the name Faen)Relationships— Half Brother: Regner "Ædelwulf" Ulfson (Significant, immediate family, forbidden)
Half Brother: Bregor Ulfson (Minor, immediate family, forbidden, hateful/rival)
Half Sister: Sigrun Ulfdottir (Minor, immediate family, forbidden)Spells or Rituals— Raven's Flight (Take the form of a Raven for a minimum of one scene. Can only be done once per lunar cycle. If you remain changed past the next new moon you become a Raven and the possibility of returning to a humanoid form deteriorates with every new moon that follows. Every day you may make an essence roll to return to your natural form but every new moon your essence drops by 1.) Wolf's Hunt (Take the form of a wolf for a minimum of one scene. Can only be done within 3 days of the full moon and once per lunar cycle. If you remain changed past the next full moon you become a wolf and the possibility of returning to a humanoid form deteriorates with every full moon that follows. Every day you may make an essence roll to return to your natural form but every full moon your essence drops by 1.)Traits— [Char] Torn from the Cycle (The Fae is not bound to the cycle of lives, A death is of course final, destroying the very essence of the fae. It's possessions and any magic it has created fades from existence unless the Fae is Fae Marked by another Fae who then take ownership of all the Fae's possessions and any magic or markings.), [Dt] Misunderstood, [Dt] Gifted, [Char] Faerie Gifts, [Dt] Mystic Essence (The Fae are creatures of the purest Essence of creation bound together by the will of a creature cast from the cycle. Half Fae are slowly being torn apart by their Mystic Essence being recreated as they are torn from the cycle memories of past lives they have lived flit through their mind as they are destroyed. Whenever a Fae fails an Essence test they must make a Steal test or or take a wound equivalent to the Ob of the Essence test and a temporary penalty on Essence equal to the degree of failure lasting until they replenish themselves. The may replenish themselves at a rate of 1 Per day in any land maintained for the Fae. All of the Elven swards are maintained in such a way as the Fae taught them this long ago, also the Grove of the masked etharchs and the Fae hills, and other such magical sites. Outside of these area's the Fae replenish at a rate of 1 per month. Replenishing requires a will test Ob. of half your essence with the penalty rounded up.), [Char] True-Name (The Fae is bound by their true name it is bound to their very essence.), [Char] Polite, [Char] Handsome, [Char] Glimmer (The Fae seems to have a supernatural glow to their skin and they have perfectly symmetrical features making them have an almost unnatural appearances.)

Weapon Type

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Bare Fisted

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Weapon Notes1 Two-handed, may not be used with a shield2 May Great Strike

Attribute Tests:

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Steal

Will

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Power

Forte

Agility

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Circles, Resources & Skill Tests:

Circles

Resources

Bow

Bow-Wise

Bowcraft

Elven Script

Etching

Etiquette

Evensong

Mornsong

Paean of Deeds

Read

Riddle of Steel

Sword

Write

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Stories:

Lightning sparked in the fog that surrounded the stone circle as the tail of the herd was making its way through. Suddenly the flickers ceased as suddenly as they had begun the fog darkened and slowly began to dissipate. Finn stood watching as the fog lifted, glaring at what he knew had occurred. The Noldai had warned him about the veil between the world and that the dangerous magic's necessary in his endeavour could open rifts in the veil. If there was one thing Finn hated it was the phrase 'I told you so!' not that a Noldai like Ammelindë would rub his nose in it, but there was that thing she did with her eyebrow that practically oozed with the phrase. That however was neither here nor there, the scolding would come later as would the clean up. Breaking his gaze from the stone circle he returned to the task at hand. He signalled that the way was now shut and began making his way up the column of marching Jotun's and refugee's. He quickly caught up to D'ralia and Regner passing the priestess of Freya, Keraja, who seemed to be enjoying an idle conversation with a huntsman. His steed calmly matched their pace as he pulled abreast of Regner. "Several of the cattle did not make it through the stones and I believe one herdsman is missing. Its a miracle any of the cattle made it through at all. The bridge stayed open far longer than I anticipated."

Regner nodded his understanding as D'ralia replied "Thank you master Silverleaf. How far is the march to Orebridge?"

"It will be a good 7 Days of travel give or take a day with fortune." he answered his brow furrowed slightly as he thought intensely on other matters. They allowed the silence to fall around them, allowing the Keraja's silvery laughter to settle over them.

The march continued and the sun reached its peak in the sky. As it began to fall a scout raced down from a hill top ahead, his steed kicking up a sandstorm as he approached. He pulled up abruptly in front of Regner "Mijne Hooghied, Dar ist soldate op die patt fan Eck vieght nie var nie!" Regner raised a closed fist to signal the column to halt, women and children moved to ward the centre as soldiers drew blades and readied bows. Regner headed up the road with his entourage, Keraja and her huntsman joining them. Regner surveyed the approaching forces from the hill top. Seeing him, a group of maybe thirty men rode out from the force under the white flag of parlay, soon after they gained the hill.

The main diplomat appraised Regner and his assemblage before speaking. "You are passing a hostile force through lands under the protection of Harol, You will turn around and return to where you came or we will be forced to attack."

Regner held the diplomats gaze for a moment before glancing at the arrayed forced of the army of Harol. "We cannot go back that way, we are not hostile, and so we will pass." nodding his head to punctuate his reply as he returned to looking at the diplomat.

The diplomats mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke, his face contorted by confusion. "Well… You're a poor leader it seems, so quick to spend the lives of your people." He began to wave to his party that they should return, stopping as Keraja came forward. "What do you wa…….." His words fell away as the jewel in her tiara began pulsating with blue grey light as it dangled between her eyes. A sudden burst of blue light sprayed forth from the gem nestled in the valley of the throat, settling on the forces of Harol. The diplomat and his retinue fell snoring from their saddles as their mounts lay down to slumber. Keraja's gems ceased their vibrant display, but indigo light still pulsed in her eyes, matching the flutter of slightly glowing veins in her neck as her heart began to calm. She reached out a hand to catch herself and her huntsman was there putting an arm around her waist to steady her. Lashing her mare reins around his saddle horn he pulled her into his lap nudging his gelding with his legs, turning him toward the column. Excusing himself with a wordless nod the huntsman returned to the column intent on finding a wagon in which Keraja might gain the rest she would need.

It was Finn who broke the silence as they stared after the Keraja. "Well….. I suppose we should be on our way." it was enough to break the shock of what had just transpired. They returned to the column in silence, their thoughts only interrupted by Regner giving orders to move out. Finn's estimation proved true as on the the 7th day of travel out of the stone circle they came to a river adorned with a bridge, abandoned wardens tower, a dilapidated fortress, and a mill tucked away behind various fortifications. As the bridge grew closer they could make out a very large solitary building sitting atop a small hill facing the old fortress, the skeletal begins of other structures rose up around it like a small oasis. Regner began shouting out orders as they crossed the bridge, the column separating into distinct groups. Refugee's walked to a camp area designated by the Jotun scouts, the Jotuns heading for a different camp and the soldiers making their way to the old fortress setting up camp around it. Keraja took control of the refugee camp, instructing able men and women where to set-up their shelters, her huntsman riding north along the river to find himself a camp outside the scouting parties. Erasmus took command of the Jotun camp setting them their duties while Brandr commanded the military contingent calling for camp to be made and food prepared before scouts were deployed to survey the surrounding area. Those remaining followed Regner toward the Inn as necessity required him to speak with the representatives of Granmar and Latswin.

As they reached the courtyard of the inn, a welcoming party stood awaiting them. The Inn Keeper standing proudly beneath the regal insignia above the lintel dubbing the establishment The Falcons Nest, the flanking shields implying the same. "Bonjour, My Lords and Ladies, mesdames et mesuers, Accueil! …. Welcome! ToZe Falcon's Nest.I am Master Francois Faufile, Ze Inn-Keper and Ze Lady Gizzell of Granmar awaits you at your leizure, My lordRegner. I will see zat your Lady sister iz shown your apartements and zat the other memberz of your retinues needs are like wize seen tu." The elderly Inn-keep greeted them politely with his thick Montaigne accent, punctuating his words with a bow. Straightening as they dismounted, he signaled for the stable hands to take their horses, another waved hand brought the porters forth taking luggage and trunks from wagons.

Faen stood atop the wardens tower looking down at the occupied funeral pyre that awaited the torch. Another fire raged on the opposite side of the tower, consuming the large pile of dilapidated furniture and the chitinous remains of the spiders that had infested the tower. Faen took in a deep breath as the wind sent his hair streaming. Spotting several riders headed East & South from Orebridge, scouts he thought, he turned to look at Regner's camp. A column of Jotun soldiers marched in a south-westerly direction, Faen could make out Regner's personal banner. Turning back to the newly hinged trap door, white sails caught his eye. He had intended on following Regner but the sails would arrive in a candle-mark or two. He would have to bide the time by finishing his work on the tower and he still had the wine cellar to tend to. He made quick work of replacing the hinges on all the doors and shutters, as well as installing a new lock for the main door. Wiping his brow he looked back to Orebridge, the ship had already docked. A greensward ship, Faen let out a sigh of relief, the elves where more diplomatic than warlike. Someone scurried through the tall grass at the edge of the spring. Faen approached Suleli as she crouched amid the reeds and grass. "Good afternoon Lady Sulelimyavael, you should be careful. I found quite a few large, poisonous spiders in the area, I think they live in watery places."

"Thank you." Suleli's soft voice drifted to him on the breeze as she stayed hidden in the grass. "You can go now."

"Have a good day, Suleli" Shaking his head and smiling he turned away, making his way to the funeral pyre, as the sun touched the horizon. Taking up a torch and lighting it with the flames of the refuse pile, he set the pyre a blaze. "May your soul find paradise." His words fell with the darkness as he stood vigil over the dead. The flames marked the time as they crackled, devouring all that rested in their grasp.